Lazreth slips back just enough to evade the deadly blow. The edge skims his upper chest, biting through flesh.
He doesn’t recoil or retaliate. Instead, his head dips, and his eyes track the line of the wound as blood seeps through. A slow grin spreads across his face—then a low, breathless laugh follows, as if he feels it and enjoys the pain the wound brings.
“Yes, princeling,” he murmurs, voice rough with pleasure. “Let me see that hate you guard so well.”
Pollock surges forward with a roar, driving the blade deep into Lazreth’s chest. He rips it free and slams it in again, harder this time, shoulder and core behind the strike.
Lazreth’s hand closes over his, locking around the hilt.
I don’t understand what he’s doing at first—not until Pollock hollers in pain.
The metal heats. Silver bleeds into a molten orange-red beneath Lazreth’s grip.
Pollock tries to pull away, but Lazreth holds fast, and the blade burns, sending searing heat into Pollock’s palm and up his arm.
Stop! Stop it! You’ll kill him.
Pollock’s clothing catches fire. His hand and arm blacken, the skin turning charred. His veins, visibly lit with fire, glow red beneath the surface.
His head kicks back, and utter agony pours from him.
Let him go, or I swear to God, I will fucking end you!
The pleasure barreling through our body has me wanting to retch.
Lazreth’s laughter grows bolder, louder than ever. He shouts, “Is that it? Are you giving up, princeling?”
Pollock’s body ignites with a whitish-blue divine light, starting at his chest and slowly funneling through the rest of him. When it reaches his arm, it pushes against the fire, which begins to recede, healing his charred skin.
Meeting Lazreth’s gaze, he delivers a cold stare as his eyes light with it. “Fuckkkk. You.”
Lazreth releases his grip and moves up his body, holding his wrist to the ground, and pins him down by his shoulders with his thighs. “Polly, Polly, Polly. That’s not nice. Not nice at all. And here I’ve been so accommodating, letting you live just so I can torture Kahill some more. I could have ended your pathetic immortal existence in a heartbeat, but I didn’t, did I? No, I’m just having a little fun, and you’re trying to ruin the mood.”
“Fuck. You! You demon hellspawn. Go back to the fiery pits you crawled out of!”
Lazreth smiles down at him wickedly. “You hear that, Kahill? He wants me to fuck him.”
That is not what he said!
“But maybe that’s what he wants. For me to destroy that sweet hole of his.” His grin widens. “Might be the only way you ever get a crack at him. He’s still a virgin, you know. Your favorite flavor.”
Lazreth…don’t even?—
“What do you say we break him in together? Claim him for our very own?” His voice drops, taunting. “You and I both know you desire that above all else.”
No!
“What do ya say? One glorious fuck, and I’ll show him who’s the better lover out of the two of us?”
Lazreth slaps Pollock’s face, then grips his jaw, forcing him to hold his gaze.
“Be honest… who do you really want to yield to? Me or him, Polly?”
“I’d rather die than have you touch me.”
“I can arrange that.”
Lazreth leans in until they’re nose to nose. “When I show you what I can do, it’ll wreck you in the best way. You won’t be able to deny what you really crave, deep down. I’ll wake something in you you’ll never put back to rest.” His voice turns darker. “A carnality that’s unquenchable. Until sex is all you can think of. Until a cock being buried balls deep inside you is the only way you wish to spend your days.”
